Evasion
by tripke
Summary: A destiel fanfic in which Dean Winchester moves into Castiel Novak's home, an openly gay stranger who is in search of a housemate. Both men find an almost instant friendship, and learn about each other and themselves. Could Dean's tragic past and Castiel's current pain lead them to something more than a friendship? Rated M for later chapters. *wiggles eyebrows creepily*
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Hello my children. So you have come to the place of Destiel worship. **

**Anyways, sorry that this chapter is kind of boring. It's just introducing them and stuff so you guys can know about them or whatever. Bleh. But they're both cuties J ;lksfg;lsdkgjdzlkgj I'm really excited for this story, I have everything all planned out, in here *points to my head* *accidentally pokes my eye out***

**Umm yeah. I'm also in the middle of writing my smillan fanfic. Which is probably a bad idea, to write both of these at the same time, but I was just so excited AND I JUST COULDN'T HIDE IT**

**Wow this is a long author's note. I just feel like I have something else to say, but I can't remember. Oh well. Happy reading! Don't forget to review, follow, favorite and all that. It makes me so happy and motivates me to write muchly things for you all J 3 **

Dean sat in his Chevy Impala, tapping the leather steering wheel once, twice, three times. He was parked outside of a medium-sized house, not too small or shabby but nothing grand or fancy. It wasn't often that Dean was nervous. He didn't think he would be when he saw the ad on craigslist from some guy who was also looking for a housemate. But now he was, because he realized this was the first time he would live without his little brother Sam, who had gone to college all the way in California. Dean was nervous because moving in with a stranger is ridiculous. Moving in with a stranger meant everything was unfamiliar; they had to work out some sort of routine, have different sides of the fridge, and take turns buying groceries and toilet paper. And the worst part, what about when they brought girls home? It would all just be too awkward.

Dean opened his car door and stepped out, shaking his head. It was just an interview, he didn't even know if he would actually live here. And he had to do this—he was too broke to live on his own, and he definitely couldn't move back in with his parents.

Dean barely had time to knock on the door before it swung open, revealing a man who was a couple inches shorter than him, had very blue eyes, was smiling and, oddly enough, wearing a light brown trench coat that looked slightly big on him. Seeing the look on Dean's face, the man said, "Oh, I saw you parked out front for a while, and then sort of, um, watched you walk up." He looked a little embarrassed about having watched him. "Nice car, by the way."

"Thanks." One point for trench coat guy. "I'm Dean by the way."

"Castiel." They shook hands. Dean almost commented on his strange name, but decided against it, figuring it would be rude. He followed Castiel into the living room, looking at his surroundings as he did so. It was pretty nice, though there wasn't many evidence that Castiel had been living here for very long. It looked like he had just moved in from the lack of personal items, though there weren't any boxes lying around that would've had more stuff. Maybe the guy just didn't like clutter.

Castiel showed Dean to a cream colored couch, motioning for him to sit down, and then headed over to the kitchen, which was separated from the living room by an island counter.

"You want a beer?"

"Um, sure, thanks." Castiel came back to the living room with a beer in one hand and a bottle of apple juice in the other. It struck Dean as weird that a grown man would drink apple juice, but then he couldn't think of why.

"So, Dean. Um, I guess I'll just ask you some questions. You're actually the only one who has contacted me, and the ad has been up for months, so you can stay here if you aren't a psychotic serial killer." Dean laughed, and Castiel smiled slightly. He asked Dean some basic questions, like why he wanted to live with someone else, what did he do for a living, and, jokingly, if he had murdered anyone in his lifetime. They sat talking for a while, telling each other about themselves. Dean told Cas (as he had soon started calling him) about how Sam had gone to college for engineering. He talked about his brother as proudly as if he was his own son, and Castiel couldn't help but smile a little at how Dean's eyes instantly lit up when he talked about him.

Dean learned that Cas was a college professor, teaching religious studies. Cas began to show him around the house, showing him the kitchen and where everything was, the bathrooms, and finally his own potential room. Dean also told him that his mom and dad had died in a plane crash thirteen years earlier, when he was eleven, and how he and Sammy had gone to live with their aunt. This led Cas to tell him that his mother was diagnosed with cancer a year ago. The abrupt change in atmosphere weighed down on them both in their empathy, and they sat in silence for a little bit. Cas suddenly cleared his throat.

"Well, I think you're suitable enough to live with me, Dean," he said smiling. "I guess we'll talk later?"

Dean nodded, standing up from the couch. "Yeah, I'll call you or something. Thanks, man." Castiel's smile grew slightly.

"Of course. Oh, and Dean? I thought you should know, just in case it's a problem…I'm gay. Openly. I don't know if that would be weird for you." Dean hesitated. Would it be weird? Probably. He wasn't homophobic, but…no. He mentally shook his head as he thought this. He didn't have a problem with gays, so yes, he would move in with Cas.

"Nah, I don't care," he said, waving his hand as if to solidify that statement. _This is good, _Dean thought._ I have a house now._

Since Dean didn't have a place to stay at yet, he had been spending his days alternating between a bar and a diner, which he used for both their food and wifi, which was how he found Cas' ad in the first place. He also used it for job searching, which he'd had no luck in so far. At night he slept in the Impala; he didn't see the point of staying at a hotel and spending money he didn't have. Sam didn't know this of course.

* * *

The next day, after talking on the phone with Sam and assuring him that yes, he had finally found somewhere to stay and yeah, he'll keep looking for jobs, he called Castiel.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Cas, it's Dean."

"Dean! Hi. How are you?"

"I'm pretty good. Are you busy?"

"No, no I'm on my lunch break right now."

"Oh cool, well um…would it be okay if I started moving in today? I can wait until you get off of work." Dean felt weird asking, especially since it had only been a day since they'd met._ Damnit, Dean, you couldn't have waited a couple days? Talk about being overeager. _

"Yeah, sure!" _Why is this guy so happy all the time?_ "I get off work at five, I'll be there around five-thirty."

"All right, thanks man, I appreciate it," Dean said, and it was true. He was so glad he finally had a place to stay, a bed to sleep in.

"No problem, Dean. I'll see you soon."

* * *

"Is that all you have?" Cas asked Dean as he stood in the doorway with only a duffle bag in his hand.

"Um, yeah. I don't have much."

"Yeah, me neither. Well, come in." It felt awkward to Dean, coming into a stranger's home with all of his belongings. He figured it was probably awkward for Cas as well. They walked upstairs to Dean's room, Cas leading the way since Dean couldn't remember which door it was.

"So I'll leave you to get situated." _Situated? What is this guy, an old woman? _"We can talk about dinner later." Dean suddenly felt like he was a kid at a relative's house without his parents. He nodded at Cas, thanking him once again.

About half an hour later, twenty minutes of it spent taking a nap, Dean came downstairs to find Castiel sleeping on the couch, his arm hanging off lazily and some educational shark show playing on the TV. Dean made his way into the kitchen and looked through the cabinets, familiarizing himself with everything. He got out some bowtie noodles, a jar or tomato sauce, and an assortment of spices and herbs. Dean liked cooking, though he didn't usually like sharing this particular piece of information with people. Sam was the only one who really knew, even if Dean hadn't actually said it out loud. It was obvious by the way he acted in the kitchen; humming to some old rock song, completely absorbed in what he was doing and an utterly pleasant, worry-free expression on his face.

Two plates of spaghetti, salad, and garlic bread had been sitting on the table for about thirty seconds before Dean saw Castiel get up from the couch. He was stretching his arms up over his head, his eyes closed and his shirt was riding up, exposing skin and almost his belly button. He opened his eyes and sniffed, a curious look on his face. He walked into the kitchen, and his face instantly turned surprised when he saw the food and Dean, who was smiling shyly.

"Did you make this, Dean?"

"No, I ordered it from Olive Garden and threw away the evidence," Dean said sarcastically, and Cas laughed. "Nah I just wanted to do this as a sort of thank you. For letting me live here, I mean."

"Wow, Dean, this is great. Thank you, too."

"Well don't thank me yet, you haven't tried it! You never know, I could have poisoned it." Cas hesitated, looking scared. "God, Cas, I was kidding!" Now Dean laughed, and Cas joined in, nervously at first. They sat down and Dean watched Cas intently as he took his first bite, relief spreading through him when it was apparent he liked the food.

"This…this is very good. _So _good. I didn't even know spaghetti could taste this amazing. What did you put in here? Jesus?" Dean smiled down at his hands in his lap.

When both men had finished their food, Cas leaned back in his chair contently. "So. Where'd you learn to cook like that?

Dean shrugged. "I've pretty much always cooked for Sammy because our aunt was a drunk and when our parents were alive, they were always at work. At first I hated it, because I just thought of it as another chore. But then…I don't know. I like how there's a recipe, a guideline, but I don't necessarily have to follow it. I can add and take away, and experiment and create." Dean looked embarrassed suddenly, realizing he had told Cas something he'd never actually admitted. Cas was smiling slightly at Dean, his head tilted to one side as if trying to decipher him.

Dean managed to get over himself as they both got up, bringing their plates and silverware to the sink. Cas began washing the dishes with a bright blue sponge, almost as blue as his eyes. Dean stood beside him and rinsed the dishes off and put them in the drying rack when Cas had finished.

"What about you, Cas? Got any hidden talents?"

Cas thought for a moment. "Well…I play the piano. And…" It was Cas' turn to look embarrassed, and Dean noticed the slight blush that rose to his cheeks. "And, I sing."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "My, my, my, Cas, I guess you'll have to write me a song someday." His eyes widened, realizing he sounded as if he was flirting with Cas. He didn't want him to get the wrong idea…

But Castiel seemed unaware of the mistake, because he was laughing and nodding; his blush still remained. The laughter died down and they were silent for a while, each of them staring into space, deep in their own thoughts. Dean yawned, and then cleared his throat.

"Well," he said, standing up. "I'm gonna head up, maybe call Sam." Cas nodded.

"Yeah, okay. I should probably finish grading some papers anyways. Thanks for dinner again by the way! If you couldn't tell, I really liked it. A lot."

Dean smiled. "My pleasure."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Wassup homies. Soooo this chapter was pretty fun to write! I want the chapters to become longer as I go on, so expect that. Thank you so much for reviews! They make me very very happy and make me want to write more :) **

The next few days consisted of Castiel and Dean lived in pretty much the same manner as the first day; respectful and too polite, saying "thank you" and "sorry" an unnecessary amount of times. They hadn't had too many conversations, mostly staying to themselves. While Cas was at work, Dean was exploring more of the town, cruising around in his car that he couldn't seem to get enough of. He went to different diners, mostly, where he could just order a water (since he didn't have money for anything else) and search jobs on his phone, while partially listening to his surroundings. After a couple days, however, his phone stopped having service, and he had no money to pay it.

Reluctantly, he headed to the library to use their computers, knowing he had to find a job in order to pay rent and, well, live. Dean hated libraries. They were too quiet, he was too loud, and he hated being _forced _to be quiet. It was like if he did or said anything loudly he would be shunned by the librarians and library-goers and looked down upon as an undesirable in the nerd world.

Dean parked the Impala in the nearest space he could find to the library door, and grunted to himself as he walked across the parking lot. The breeze prickled the skin on his bare arms, a warm breeze, the kind you want to let carry you away as you close your eyes. Inside, the library was quiet. What a surprise.

The computers were in separate section of the library completely, boxed off as if in mini offices. Gray. Everything looked gray. It was depressing. Why did people like libraries so much? Dean had been sitting in the gray chair with the gray walls around him for what seemed like forever. He was pretty sure he had been staring at the same sentence for over three minutes. His head was propped up by his hand, and his eyes drooped before blinking back open. This happened repeatedly until Dean heard his name.

"Dean? Hey, Dean!"

He turned around. "Oh, hi Castiel…" He looked at the other man, his mind still groggy from his off and on five second naps. "Aren't you supposed to be working?"

Cas was walking closer to Dean by this point. "It's my lunch break."

"You go to the library for your lunch breaks?" Dean almost snorted.

"Yeah, I like it here. Nice and quiet. And books. I really like books. What about you? Why are you here? You didn't strike me as the book loving type."

Dean put his fingers to his temples, massaging both sides, remembering why he was here in the first place. "Job hunting. Fun fun." Sarcasm is thick like glue.

Cas seemed to think for a moment, and then his eyes grew wide like he had a literal light bulb moment in his brain. "Dean!" His exclamation was enthusiastic despite the fact that it was a sort of stage-whisper.

"They're hiring here! At the library! I don't know what kind of experience you have, but I'm pretty sure it doesn't even matter. As long as you know how to alphabetize." He looked so proud of himself, like he solved all of Dean's problems. Dean was about to say no, no definitely not, because working at a library? That's like the epitome of boring jobs. But then he stopped himself because really, it was either work here or be broke forever and eventually have to live on the street and eat rat eyeballs. And he was almost certain he'd rather work at the library than have to eat rat eyeballs.

"Wow, um, yeah. That'd be…cool. Yeah, cool. Thanks Cas. I'll just go, uh—" But Cas was already pulling Dean by his wrist to the front desk, and then he was asking for the application papers, and then before Dean knew it he was sitting in his impala alone, a pen in one hand and half of the application already filled out. Well, this was a start.

It was around seven o'clock, Cas had been home for a while, and Dean was in the kitchen finishing dinner. The two men sometimes took turns cooking for the both of them, sometimes just heating up cheap frozen food for themselves. Dean was making steak and roasted tomatoes that had parsley and thyme sprinkled over them. It took a while to get the tomatoes exactly how he wanted them, but eventually they turned out to be pretty decent. He knocked the top of the broom on the ceiling that was under Castiel's room, their alternative way of calling each other since they usually couldn't hear if they yelled.

Dean was balancing the two plates of food on each of his hands with slight difficulty, when Cas turned around the wall that jutted out from the kitchen as it dissolved into the living room, colliding with Dean, causing the dishes to tumble out of his hands. The landed with a crash on the floor, and both men winced as they heard the shatter of porcelain. They both stared down at the damage, a look of horror splayed over Cas' face.

"Oh my God."

"Um, it's okay," Dean said, and he was about to say something else about how it was completely fine, but he couldn't think of anything.

"No, like I'm really sorry. This must have taken you forever!"

"Nah, it's fine dude. There's still some tomatoes on the stove…we could order a pizza or something! That was the last of the steak, though."

Cas looked embarrassed. "I should probably tell you…I'm actually a vegetarian."

Dean looked at him. "You did this on purpose!" The other man looked startled for a second, but then saw that Dean was smiling and laughed. The dishes and food were still lying in a mess on the floor, and neither of the men had moved. Finally though, the mess was cleaned and the pizza was called, and Cas suggested they find a movie to watch on TV. Dean put on Dracula while Cas went back to his room to change into pajamas. He came back into the room a minute later with pictures of Spock's face from Star Trek all over his pants, and Dean stared at them incredulously, wondering whether to laugh or cry.

"Cas, what the _hell _are you wearing?"

Cas looked down at his pants, frowning. "Spock. I'm wearing Spock."

"Well it's fucking creepy," Dean said laughing. Cas stuck his tongue out at him, and then walked over to the couch and sat as far away from Dean as he could.

"Aww, have I hurt your feelings?" Cas turned his head even more, and stuck his chin up slightly. Then he saw Dracula playing on the TV and his eyes suddenly lit up, apparently forgetting to keep playing upset.

"I _love _this movie." Dean looked over at him, eyebrows raised, before turning his attention back to the TV, turning the volume up much to Cas' delight.

They spent the rest of the night eating pizza and watching classic monster movies, except they ended up talking over most of them, learning more about each other since they still felt somewhat like strangers. Frankenstein was playing when Cas fell asleep, his head lying against the armrest and his toes lightly brushing Dean's thigh. He almost woke him up to tell him to go into his room, but decided against it. Dean picked both of their plates up, dropping them in the sink to be washed the next day.

Cas came home after his work the next afternoon to Dean lying on the floor on his back with one arm draped over his eyes.

"Dean, why are you on the floor." It sounded more like a scold than a question.

"Nothing. Just thinking. I like to think when—"

"We're going to a bar. C'mon, let's go now."

Dean took his arm from his face, sitting up and staring confusedly at his housemate. "Cas, I've only ever seen you drink apple juice."

He rolled his eyes at Dean, and then took his coat off the coatrack and threw it at him, jangling his keys as if it would make him hurry up.

"Fine," Dean said, putting on his coat lazily. "But we're taking my car. Yours smells weird."

"It's _pine, _Dean. Everyone likes pine."

"Nobody likes your pine tree nature shit, Cas." Cas rolled his eyes again, adjusting his trench coat on his shoulders. They headed out to the car, Dean still wondering why Cas suddenly had an interest in normal things, like alcohol.

The bar was smaller than the one Dean used to go to (back when he had money), and there weren't many people, seeing as it was only about five in the evening. It was dim and a little smoky, which gave the place an almost dusty look. Dean originally had refused Cas' offer to buy him a drink, but Cas insisted, so he sighed and agreed on a beer. Castiel, the trench coat baby who drinks apple juice like his life depended on it, ordered six shots of straight whiskey. Dean decided not to question it.

They talked a bit, about Cas' teaching and when Dean was going to start work. Dean found that he liked listening to Cas talk about his different methods of teaching, and how his students reacted to all the new weird stuff they would do. He sounded so…passionate about it all. Dean hoped that someday he could find a career that he liked as much as his new friend liked his. And Cas drank, and he drank. Dean just sipped on his beer, and didn't order anything after he had finished. It wasn't like him, but he didn't want to drive Cas home drunk. And he wouldn't dare get a taxi and leave his precious car at some bar. Soon, Castiel's words kept slurring together, and then he wasn't making sense at all, just rambling about nothing.

After a while, Cas seemed to get bored of Dean, and he wondered over to the other side of the bar, next to a brown haired guy with a tattoo on his neck and an eyebrow ring. They talked for a few seconds, both of them looking bored, before Cas grabbed the stranger's face and smashed his mouth against his. _That was unexpected, _Dean thought to himself. The other guy squirmed, his eyes wide open, and pushed Cas away. Even from where Dean was sitting, he could hear the guy shout, "Dude, I'm not _gay_!"

Cas looked at him blankly. "Well, you know what? Fuck you, that's what." Dean laughed as he got up and walked to Cas, grabbing his wrist and leading him out of the bar. Cas stumbled as they walked.

"I didn't know you could be so badass, Cas," Dean said, still chuckling.

He looked up at Dean, squinting. "Cas…Ass. Ass Cas. Ha. Rhymes."

"All right, we're getting you home." By now, Cas had his arm slung over Dean's shoulder for support. Dean helped him into the car with some difficulty; he was a bit heavier than he looked. Getting up the stairs was the real hard part, thought. Cas kept stopping to close his eyes and slump against Dean. When the two got the doorway of Cas' room, he turned to face Dean, and tears were in his eyes very suddenly.

"I don't want her to die," he whispered. Dean, realizing he's probably talking about his mother who has cancer, wrapped his arms around Cas' shoulders. The hug was new for Dean. The only person he was used to hugging was Sammy, and he was a lot larger than Dean so he always felt enveloped. Now, with Cas, he felt like a mold, like he and Cas had melted into each other. Then Cas dropped his arms, walked over to his bed and plopped facedown. Dean walked to his own room after looking back at his housemate once more. He stripped his clothes off and let them fall to the floor. He was too tired to put them away and too tired to put sweats on so he climbed into his bed with only his boxers on.

He hugged his knees to his chest, trying to understand what Cas was going through. Sure, Dean's parents had already died, but it had happened so long ago that the grief was faded. Soon, Cas' pain would be new and vivid, just like Dean's was at first, and he almost cringed. He didn't want Cas to have to go through what he did. He wanted to console Cas, be there for him. But they had just met hardly a month ago…he still felt like they didn't know each other.

He fell asleep quickly, faster than he thought he was going to. It was easy to fall asleep when curled up into a ball, holding the blanket tightly and breathing slowly.

It was easy to fall asleep when you felt alone. Because when you're dreaming you don't feel the loneliness.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Don't you worry, my lovelies! The content in this chapter is NOT what makes this story rated M. The explicit stuff comes later :D But yeah, there's a thing in this chapter. Sort of. Ehh, you'll just have to read and see for yourselves :) Don't forget to review and follow! I love those things. They make my life happy :) Oh! And one little scene idea in the bathroom came from fanfiction user AngelicTimelord, so thank you dear 3 I don't know how to tag people, but oh well.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of the characters. But that would be really cool. **

Dean woke up to the strong smell of bacon and burnt eggs from the kitchen. He changed into sweats quickly (it was Saturday, and there was no way in hell he was going to wear jeans) and then headed down the stairs and to the kitchen. Cas was sitting on the floor with his head in his hands and pieces of burnt egg scattered around him. Dean walked to the stove, turning the burners off before the bacon could also burn, and crouched by Cas, awkwardly putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Cas?" Castiel looked up at Dean, his eyes puffy and rimmed with red. Dean wondered if that was from last night or just now.

"Cas, get up. We're going to the couch." He obeyed, standing up and grabbing Dean's elbow to steady himself. They went to the couch slowly, sitting down to face each other when they got there. Dean was never good at comforting people and he knew that, but he also knew he had to try. It didn't seem like Cas had anyone else to talk to.

"Tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong." Dean rolled his eyes.

"Cas, obviously something is wrong, because you're a vegetarian and you were just attempting to make bacon."

The other man sighed. "I just wanted to make it for you for, you know. Last night and all." Dean's eyes softened, a 'thank you' in its own. Cas started to get up. "Speaking of which, I have to go finish it. So if you would just let me—" Dean grabbed his shoulders and forced him back on the couch.

"No, Cas. We need to talk about this. You're hurting, and you need someone to talk to. You can talk to me." Dean had no idea where this was coming from, or where he was going with it.

Cas sighed again. "It's nothing, Dean. This isn't out of the ordinary, okay? My mother is dying. I'm allowed to be upset." Dean felt a little hurt at the annoyance in his voice, but brushed it away as he continued. "She's going to die soon. I don't want to hide away my grief, because that's like I'm forgetting her, or I don't care, and I _don't want _that to happen. Okay?" Dean nodded, looking down at his hands in his lap. Cas placed his hand on top of Dean's, and then took it away as if deciding against it. They looked at each other for what seemed like seconds or days or centuries when Cas' eyes started to droop and he yawned. Dean got up and nudged at Cas to lay down on the couch. He put a blanket over his housemate, and he fell asleep almost instantly. Dean went to clean up the mess in the kitchen, eating the unharmed bacon, and when Cas woke up both men pretended the previous events of the morning hadn't happened.

As the weeks went by, Dean and Cas found themselves in even more of a routine than they were in before. Dean started working at the library full-time, despising every second of it but thankful of the checks every week. Cas kept on teaching his students, constantly bringing stories home to Dean that he would tell with smiling eyes. They still made food for each other; mostly Dean though because he was better at it and enjoyed it a lot more. He started making meals with meat substitutes like tofu and soybeans. At first he thought it was ridiculous and couldn't bring himself to even taste it, but then found himself inspired by a barbeque tofu dish Cas had practically forced down his throat at a Thai food restaurant. He still craved a real hamburger every once in while though, which he got during his lunch breaks at his favorite diner.

Somewhere along the way, though they couldn't pinpoint the exact moment when they decided this, Friday night had become their movie and takeout night. They alternated between the various restaurants in town, ordering a bunch of food that would last them for the next couple of days. Then they would pop in library movies one after another until they fell asleep, Dean's head resting on his hand that was propped up on the armrest of the couch and Cas' feet poking at his hip as he curled on his side. It was uncomfortable for both of them (especially Dean) but nonetheless it was how they almost always drifted off. Later on in the night one of them would wake up and push the other off the couch to wake them, then they would stumble up the stairs to their own rooms, food forgotten until the morning.

Dean woke up one morning after one of their Friday night adventures, his limbs and brain and eyes still half asleep. He looked at his clock: 7:42. _Oh, hell no, _Dean thought to himself grumpily. He was not going to wake up this early on a Saturday morning. However, he had to pee really, _really _bad. Which was probably the reason he woke up in the first place. Cursing, Dean all but fell out of bed, nearly walking into his door on the way out.

He opened the bathroom door to find Castiel leaning with his arm in the shower to turn it on. Naked. His backside was facing Dean, who froze, staring with his eyes wide. Cas spun around to face him and Dean wished he hadn't because his eyes flickered south, which Cas saw. Dean scrambled out with a half-attempt at shutting the door, and ran out to the Impala. He was still slightly in shock from the whole situation as he drove around the block multiple times. He parked in front of the neighborhood pool, which was closed because it was near the end of autumn. He slowly took deep breaths, as if trying to somehow rid himself of the embarrassment. It's not as if he had never seen another guy's junk before. He had been in a high school gym locker room plenty of times, and obviously there were naked guys. Not to mention it was pretty difficult to watch porn and not see a dick. He wondered if this was because Cas was gay? Did that make it extra awkward? He sat there for a while longer, contemplating before he finally settled on that explanation. He didn't know why he was making such a big deal about this. Dean knew he couldn't hide away forever. They did live in the same house, after all. After one more deep breath and a mental shake, Dean started up his car and drove back to the house.

When he opened the door he stood face to face with Cas, who was holding his car keys in one hand and his trench coat in the other.

"Oh! Dean. I was just going to look for you." Dean didn't know what to think of that. Where would he look? Maybe the library, though that would never be considered a "hang out" place for him. Maybe his favorite diner, or the bar he always goes to. Dean realized that he had found his personal spots in this new town that he lived in, and that Castiel was the only one who knew of them.

"Oh, yeah. I just needed to…anyways. You wanna go inside? I can make breakfast or something, I'm getting hungry. Are you getting hungry? I was thinking pancakes, we haven't had those yet have we? Do you want pancakes?" Cas chuckled quietly, leading the way inside.

"Dean, stop rambling. We don't need to make this anymore awkward than it already is, do we?" Dean shook his head.

"All right, then," Cas said as the two men entered the kitchen. "Let's make some pancakes."

They quickly realized they didn't have any pancake batter, hence why they had never made pancakes, so they hopped in the car on a quest to the grocery store. They rode in the impala as usual, since Dean refused to ride in Cas' car unless he absolutely had to. Dean turned the radio on and rolled down the windows, letting one arm hang out and feel the cool wind resisting as they drove. He sang along to the music and Cas smiled at how horrible he sounded, which neither of them minded. Eventually Cas started singing along as well, quietly though, so Dean could hardly hear him. Dean _could_ faintly hear him, however, and he lowered his own voice slightly so he could hear Cas' better. When the car stopped, Dean sat back in his chair and looked at Cas. Castiel saw him staring and laughed nervously.

"What?"

Dean smiled. "You have a nice voice." Cas rolled his eyes, but Dean could see a blush rising to his cheeks.

"I do not."

"Yes, you do! You should be on that singing show, American Idol?" This time Cas laughed fully, his head thrown back. He didn't answer Dean, instead getting out of the car and shutting the door. Dean did the same, and they walked together into the store. This was the first time they would be grocery shopping together—they usually took turns. It was weird, and Dean wondered if people thought they were dating. It made him feel a little self-conscious, but he pushed it to the back of his mind.

Dean grabbed some pancake batter, but when he turned around he and Cas were looking at each other: Cas was holding a different brand of batter.

"I will fight you for this, Dean."

"Well that makes two of us, _Castiel._" They glared at each other for several seconds before scrambling to put their box in the shopping cart, racing to get there first and pushing each other out of the way as they did so. Coincidentally, they arrived at the same time.

"All right, I think I have a solution," Cas said, clasping his hands together. "This is going to sound crazy. I don't know, I might have lost my mind. But here it is: we get _both _batters, and mix them. Yeah?"

Dean stared at him blankly. "You are a madman."

Cas nodded, as if accepting that statement. They then went through the store with both of their batters. They came out with the batters, whipped cream, strawberries, blueberries, chocolate syrup, lemon juice, and chocolate chips. Dean wasn't exactly sure what the lemon juice was for, but Cas just kept saying "you'll see".

When they got home, Cas put on a CD by Bright Eyes, which Dean thought he would hate but he ended up really liking them. Dean did most of the preparing of the ingredients, Cas claiming that he only wanted to put the chocolate chips in and flip the pancakes. It turned out that he was horrible at flipping pancakes—they kept folding in on themselves and Dean would playfully yell at him. This made Cas scrunch his face up and produce some noise of frustration, which amused Dean to the point where he was doubling over with laughter. Dean finally took over with the flipping, and Cas leaned with his back on the counter as he watched Dean and sang along to the music. Dean was quiet, just listening to his friend beside him. Cas' voice was smooth and rough at the same time; he glided over the notes effortlessly and yet there was a raspy edge. Dean wanted to close his eyes and just let his voice wash over him. He wanted to sway to the beat and float in the air.

The pancakes were finally finished and Cas told Dean to go sit on the couch and not to look over to the kitchen. Dean didn't even question, he just did as he was told. Castiel came back about a minute later with two plates in his hands. On one plate there was a pancake with whipped cream, chocolate syrup, and fruit on it, and on the other plate was a pancake and on it was what looked like…sugar? Cas placed the regular looking pancake on the floor in front of the couch and handed Dean the other one, along with a fork.

"Did you put sugar on my pancake?"

"It's lemon juice and sugar," Cas said, staring at him intently, waiting for him to take a bite. "This is what Australians do."

"This is fucking weird."

"Just try it, Dean. It's really good." Dean took a bite hesitantly, and then his face instantly brightened.

"This is fucking amazing." Cas smiled and ran to the kitchen to get his own two plates of pancakes. He explained that he always ate at least one pancake with lemon juice and sugar ever since he tried it when he went to Australia for a summer when he was in high school.

When they finished they laid their heads back on the couch, melting into the music. Cas looked over at Dean, who had his eyes closed.

"Hey, Dean?"

"Mmm?"

"Thank you," Castiel whispered. At first he thought he didn't hear him, but then he felt Dean's fingers enclose around his wrist lightly, so lightly he could hardly feel them. His hand dropped almost as soon as it had come, and both men felt the slight loss of heat as a result.


End file.
